


Something Like Forever

by someryn



Category: Wizards of Waverly Place
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:59:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someryn/pseuds/someryn
Summary: She doesn’t realize how it was before until she is living in the after. Set after the first movie. Justin/Alex





	Something Like Forever

**Author's Note:**

> It's totally cool to write fanfiction for a show that ended over six years ago, right? That's totally a thing people do. 
> 
> In case it isn't obvious, as with most WoWP fanfiction, this is a brother/sister incest pairing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

She doesn’t realize how it was _before_ until she is living in the _after_.

How she went to his side when she entered the room.

How when they were talking to someone she’d take a half-step back or to the side every few minutes, not even thinking about it, not losing the beat of the conversation, until her shoulder bumped into him or her hand at her side brushed his, and then she was okay again for a little while.

How even when she was mad at him, even when they were fighting, she needed to be tugging on his hand, pushing his shoulder, getting in his personal space.

_Touch touch touch._

It seemed so normal at the time. No, not even that – it seemed so fundamental, so necessary, that she never thought about it once in sixteen years.

Until she does.

* * *

Alex can’t remember Max’s birthday or the formula for the quadratic equation or to return the magic books she steals from the lair before her dad needs them for their next lesson.

But she’ll remember what it felt like to lose Justin, to look at him and see him staring back at a stranger, until her dying day.

Magic is funny, sometimes. And sometimes it’s cruel. She had half thought that using the Stone would come at a price, that she wouldn’t be able to return everything back to the way it had been, that she’d have to choose.

And that since Justin was the one with her, maybe her choice would have been between him and something else she really wanted. Maybe getting the rest of her family back. Maybe her parents remembering her.

She had pretended, for a few seconds, like she didn’t know which she’d choose.

But lying to herself is boring and pointless, and she knew the answer before she’d finished asking the question.

She will always choose Justin, even if it means damning the rest of the world to do it.

* * *

She knows that her parents remember nothing. Max remembers it like a dream, and one he is happy enough to forget.

She doesn’t have to ask Justin. She can see it in his eyes. He remembers.

The next day is almost surreal. They have a few days left on the island, and her mom still wants to reenact her dates with their dad while remembering intermittently that she promised Alex to let her pick some of their activities.

Only Alex is way, way past the point of wanting to make decisions for anyone, and she always agrees with whatever her mom suggests.

The only thing that breaks her out of her ambivalence is when they are walking back to the hotel that evening and her mom suggests that Alex stay with her and Max while Justin and Jerry go look for a restaurant to eat at after they wash up.

Alex practically has a nervous breakdown at the thought and tries hard not to make her “ _No_!” a shout but isn’t sure she succeeds. She edges backward into Justin so far that the back of her shoulder is pressed against his chest.

He doesn’t step away from her, and she thinks she feels his hand brush against her hip, for just a second, in reassurance, in necessary touch.

“ _No_ ,” she says more calmly. “I want to go with them.”

Her mom furrows her eyebrows but nods, and Alex forces herself to put some space between Justin before their parents notice. A little.

“Well, I guess I don’t need to go then,” her dad says with a relaxed smile. He doesn’t suspect anything. “I think it’s still happy hour if we can get to the pool in time.”

“Jerry,” her mom says, rolling her eyes, but she gives in when Alex’s dad gives her his best pleading look.

“Get us a reservation for five in a couple hours, _mijo_ ,” their mom tells Justin. She pulls one of the hotel key cards out of her purse and hands it to Alex. “No fighting,” she adds, leveling them with the stern glare that has never convinced Alex to do anything differently in her entire life.

Justin nods, and the rest of their family traipses toward the entrance to the hotel, Max asking something about mermaids and happy hour while their mom tries pointlessly to shush him.

Justin cracks a smile and turns to Alex, but whatever he sees in her expression makes his smile fall off his face. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

She stares at him. Like he doesn’t know. “Maybe the fact that we just got back from living in an alternate reality and almost stopped existing?”

_Maybe just the fact that I thought I’d lost you forever?_

“And...” she takes a deep breath. “And maybe it’s easy for _you_ to forget – ” _don’t say forget don’t say forget_ and fuck she hates that word now “– but _I_ can’t, okay?”

“Alex,” he says, and it’s kind of a sigh but he doesn’t sound irritated, and he reaches over to drape his arm around her shoulders. And it’s good, so good, but she can’t tell him that because he would think she was really weird.

And maybe he just meant to do it for a minute, but before he can move back she presses against his side and rests her head against his shoulder and finally, finally feels her shoulders slump in relief.

“I keep remembering, too,” he says quietly as they walk along the boardwalk. “I remember forgetting, if that makes sense. I was so afraid of forgetting everything. Forgetting you. And then I did. Only I didn’t really, Alex.” He sounds earnest, and she glances over at him just long enough to glimpse the expression she already knew she’d find. “I didn’t remember who you were, but I still knew you were... important. The most important thing in my life.”

She almost makes a smart-ass retort just to cover up the jolt that shoots through her at hearing him say that. If she’s the most important thing to him, that means he won’t leave her, right?

“Don’t do that again, Justin,” she says, and her throat feels tight. “Don’t forget me again.”

“Hey.” He guides her a little off the tourist-filled walkway onto the grass and steps in front of the thick trunk of a palm tree. He slides his arm from her shoulders and pushes her gently so that her back is to the trunk. Leaning in, he squeezes her upper arms and looks down at her.

“I will always be here for you. For as long as you want me to.” He laughs self-deprecatingly. “I mean, eventually you’re gonna have boyfriend you’ll want to do that, but until then – ”

“No.” She reaches for one of his hands, still squeezing her bicep, and wraps her fingers around his wrist, just for a second. “Not even then, Justin. I’ll always need you – ”

She breaks off, blushing. Justin’s going to pull away, he’s going to give her a weird look because she’s going too far –

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, and he doesn’t look weirded out; he looks like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to say those words. He lets go of her shoulders just as a college-aged guy stumbles off the sidewalk and bumps against Justin.

As the boys’ friends laugh drunkenly and pull him back onto the sidewalk, Justin steps back onto the path, and Alex thinks the moment is over.

But then he wraps his arm around her shoulders again without her needing to prompt it, and they continue down the boardwalk together while Alex ignores all of Justin’s suggestions and picks out a restaurant she likes, and things are somehow better than they started.

* * *

Alex Russo doesn’t have nightmares. She gives _other_ people nightmares. That’s why it’s so completely stupid to wake up in the middle of the night their first night back home and want to cry when she realizes her brothers aren’t in the room with her, and who knew she’d get used to sharing a room, gross.

She could stay in bed, but she already knows she won’t be able go back to sleep in it, and she likes as much sleep as possible, thank you very much.

So she drapes her comforter around her like a queenly robe and lets herself out into the hallway quietly, because normally she wouldn’t care about making noise, but having nightmares when you’re sixteen years old is _embarrassing_.

She glances at the closed door to Justin’s room, but she managed to be less weird around him the last couple days of their vacation and only reached out to touch him a few times more than usual, and she just needs to get through – _till when_? – this, until they’re back to normal (for them), and she doesn’t need to feel his skin against hers (as often), and she manages to get over what she won’t even acknowledge to herself without him ever knowing.

The problem with that plan is that she’s really good at keeping things from Justin – until she isn’t. So she needs to be careful (not really her style, but desperate times), and imagining the look in his eyes if he figures her out is good motivation.

So she keeps walking and curls up on the couch in the lair because it doesn’t feel anything like her bedroom, then drags a random book toward her and lays it open, like she fell asleep reading it, in case someone comes in while she’s asleep.

And only someone brain dead (so maybe Max) would think she actually did, but maybe they’ll ( _he’ll_ ) be looking for whatever booby trap they think she put in the room instead of considering that yeah she’s down here but maybe she didn’t want to be.

* * *

Justin doesn’t seem to think anything’s different, and she doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. He never pulls away when she reaches for him, a million and one reasons (excuses) on the tip of her tongue every time in case she needs one, and if he doesn’t come to her any more than he used to he doesn’t touch her any less either, and she clings to that thought like she can’t cling to him.

* * *

No one’s caught her in the lair yet. She sleeps like shit down there (well, anywhere), so it’s easy enough to wake up at dawn and drag herself upstairs, lie down in her bed, and stare blankly at the ceiling until her mom comes to make sure she’s up.

Justin gets invited to this long weekend thing at Wiztech a few weeks after they get back, and she half waits (half dreads, half hopes) (and so what if those are three halves, she failed algebra for a reason) to see if their parents will make her go too.

But they don’t, and she tells him, “Later, loser,” but can’t quite meet his eyes, and he grins like nothing’s changed and gives her a sideways hug and then he’s gone and it’s fine it’s totally fine, and her chest definitely doesn’t ache knowing she has to figure out how to go three whole days without touching him.

* * *

She didn’t think the night would matter that much since it’s not like she sees Justin then anyway, but knowing he’s not in the house is a million times worse, and she lies in the lair all night and doesn’t sleep at all.

The moment that the time on her phone switches to starting with a seven, she’s dialing Uncle Kelbo’s number, trying to think of an excuse while he’s already answering (and maybe she should have thought of one beforehand, but she’s not the smart one, that’s – ).

But Kelbo doesn’t need a diagram of her plans; the word “prank” is out of her mouth, and he’s chuckling and agreeing and in the lair with a puff of smoke before she’s hung up the phone.

She does have to swear up and down that she’ll take all the blame for this before he teleports her direct to the wizarding world, and she’d have promised much more than that. She tries to channel her desperation into enthusiasm, and Kelbo doesn’t know the difference.

Justin’s already awake and sitting at his desk because of course he is (he likes to get an hour of work done before breakfast and has since he was in middle school and it’s beyond lame that she knows that).

He’s too startled to react for a second, and she definitely doesn’t notice that he’s wearing a t-shirt he got from MoMA a couple years ago when their parents dragged them (well, dragged _her_ ; Justin had been practically jogging ahead) there, and it’s too tight now and he looks –

No. She’s here for a purpose (yeah, she’s here to see fucking Justin, but lies are easier (usually); why do people think she likes them so much?).

She opens her mouth to say a spell (stop time and fuck something up in his room and maybe vanish his wand so he has to use one of the school’s shitty training wands that spurt random spells half the time, or – god she should have thought ahead for once in her life) but what she says instead is: “Miss me, motherfucker?”

Justin shrieks and drops his pencil, and there are ten thousand emotions on his face (surprise annoyance fondness) and then, as she can’t keep a triumphant smile off her face, the beginnings of a small, reluctant grin.

And she’s being so lame again, but if that’s what it takes to get him to give her that real smile–

“Seems more like you missed me,” he retorts, recovering. “You’re gonna to get in trouble with Mom and Dad.”

She rolls her eyes, puts on her best game (lying) face. “Yeah, well, I was gonna prank you, but it was only gonna be fun if you were asleep.”

He eyes her suspiciously. “What were you gonna do?”

“Nunya business,” she says in a sing-song voice, and he scoffs and rolls his eyes, and just like that she’s back in action, she can feel that eternal rhythm between them.

She sits down on his bed without thinking about it; now that she’s in sight of him there’s a looseness to her shoulders like she’s seeing him again after ten years instead of a day, and she remembers she’s been sleep-deprived for weeks.

He furrows his brow slightly at her, so she drops her eyes to the thin coverlet under her fingertips, pulls the edge back (he’s already made it for the day because, again, of course he has), to see soft, solid white sheets underneath. “No comic book sheets?” she asks him, like that’s why she sat down, like that’s what she’s thinking about right now.

“You know we didn’t have to bring our own last time either, Alex,” he says. “Look, if you’re still planning to prank me, can you get it over with? I need to get back to work.”

“Sure you do,” she says, yawning. “You always think you do.”

Avoiding his pillow, because that would be weird (yeah, _that_ would be what makes this weird), she curls up in the middle of his bed, on her side so she can still see him.

His eyes flick over her, but she’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, nothing skanky, so he can’t possibly be suspicious that... but all he says is, “And you never think you do.”

“Yeah,” she says, like, way to state the obvious. “And I’m still around, right? Haven’t been disowned, you still– ” She chokes it off, and fuck, being this tired around him isn’t her brightest idea.

Justin rolls his eyes again, but there’s a softness in them, and she’s reminded of the days in Puerto Rico after she’d ruined everything and Justin had put it back together.

“Could that possibly be my baby sister trying to say something nice to me?” he asks, and she smugly notes that he hasn’t looked at his homework once since she teleported into his room. Yep, that’s a victory, she wins over mathemagical equations.

“Fuck you, no,” she grumbles.

Instead of chastising her language or getting offended, he just laughs. “Yeah, you were. I’ll always save your butt, Alex. I don’t know how not to, at this point.”

 _Good, never learn_ , she thinks fiercely. “What makes you think I need you?” she says, aiming for nonchalance.

“Oh, the twenty billion or so times I’ve prevented you from destroying the world– ”

Abruptly, he cuts off, and she knows he didn’t mean it about their vacation in particular, but nothing had ever been as scary as Puerto Rico.

“You didn’t prevent me then,” she says, knowing he’ll know exactly what she’s talking about.

“No,” he says, and there’s fucking _guilt_ in his voice, like he let her down. And maybe in a tiny way she’s always surged forward because she knew he’d be there to be her balance, and this time he fucking _wasn’t_. “I cared too much about the wand– ”

“I cared too much about myself,” she interrupts, and it’s true. All she could think about was how her mother hadn’t seemed to give a single shit about anything Alex had wanted to do as a sixteen-year-old, fully functional human being.

Alex hasn’t felt that level of sheer annoyance – almost hatred – toward her mother since they‘ve gotten back, but then again her mom has mostly left her alone. Normally Alex would be smug about not being told what to do, but she knows it’s because her mom has at least some idea now of the chasm that divides them –

 _Watch out, Mom, piss me off and I can destroy your reality,_ she thinks, and shudders.

“You didn’t want to be there,” Justin says quietly, and she meets his eyes. When did she look away, when did her chest start hurting? “You were only with us because Mom was punishing you.”

“God, and she wouldn’t even let me stay back at the resort,” Alex says, willing her throat to loosen, to bring back her usual effortless teen attitude. “It sucked.”

Justin nods. “I should have paid more attention to you. When you’re unhappy you’re...”

“Awful?” She’s just being honest here.

But Justin shakes his head. “Restless. Reckless.”

It’s a kind way of putting it, Alex thinks. She must seem fragile if Justin’s making the effort to choose his words carefully around her.

He watches her thoughtfully, not like he’s waiting for her to say something, just patient, and his biceps show through his shirt sleeves, and Alex remembers the two-faced asshole from the vacation, the boy who’d given her surfing lessons and flirted with her. He’d been the first boy she had met who had actually made her... _feel_ things. Things beyond just thinking, _I am attracted to this boy,_ but _I want this boy to_ do things _to m_ e.

Those feelings had been swirling inside her, alongside her simmering anger at being out of control of her own body and her own life, and then she’d destroyed the world, and it had been just her and Justin for days and days, and her memories of what her body was capable of feeling had almost drowned her.

And he’d been _right there_ the whole time, and sometimes when she looked at him she had a half-second of forgetting why this gray-eyed boy was along for the ride with her. And other times when she looked at him she remembered perfectly well he was her brother, but even in those times it hadn’t seemed to matter very much at all.

“I’m going,” she says abruptly, because she’s getting dangerously close to admitting to herself what she absolutely, positively, eternally, and non-negotiably is ever going to think about. “I’m gonna fall asleep on your bed if I stay here.”

He doesn’t look overjoyed that she’s leaving, and she hates herself for the satisfaction she feels at that. He opens his mouth, looks away, and says, “You can, if you want. It’s not like I’m using it.”

Goosebumps rise all up and down her arms. He wouldn’t have said _that_ before vacation.

“Yeah, so you can prank me?” she asks, with a snort that’s almost natural. “Nice try.”

He shakes his head. “That’s your thing, Alex, not mine. Leave, if you want, but I promise I won’t do anything while you’re asleep.”

She hesitates, bites her lip, remembers she’s on _Justin’s bed_ (how many times is that gonna happen), and he’s the one who brought the whole fucking thing up so it’s not weird (and if it is, it’s on him) and she can just rely on her biggest personality trait – laziness.

So she curls tighter in a ball, relaxing down into the mattress a little. “I’ve got to be back before Mom and Dad notice I’m gone,” she says, already accepting that she’s going to stay (as if there was any doubt).

Justin scoffs. “I’ll come wake you up on my lunch break,” he says. “It’s not like you ever leave your room before noon on the weekends anyway.”

That’s almost like (and fuck Alex hates herself sometimes for where her mind immediately goes) they’re all grown up and he works and she doesn’t (because fuck no of course she doesn’t) and he’s coming home on his lunch hour to see her and then maybe –

Lalalalala _nope_.

“Whatever, dude,” she says, curling up tighter. Her eyes shut of their own accord, and she remembers that she didn’t get any sleep the night before. Or barely at all for three weeks.

She’s not sure how long it is later, but at some point she knows the lights in the room turn off, and she thinks she feels a hand on her head for just a minute, and she buries her her face deeper into Justin’s pillow, and then there is nothing but beautiful, beautiful sleep.

* * *

She wakes to the smell of –

“Dude, you get chocolate here?” she says blearily, sitting up.

Justin sits down on the end of the bed, a paper plate with a chocolate-icing cake that says “PY” in his hand.

“How come there wasn’t any when I came here?” she asks accusingly, looking at the cake longingly, wondering how she’s gonna convince Justin to give it to her. Her second best trait after laziness are her powers of manipulation, after all.

“It’s one of my classmate’s birthdays,” he says with a shrug. “Do you want it or not?”

It’s for her and she won’t even have to trick him out of it? “Hell yes,” she says, and he hands it over.

“You’re the best,” she says without thinking through a mouthful of chocolate, and Justin gives her a rare unguarded smile, and god, she loves – it. Loves _it_.

“I figured it was easier than trying to wake you up the normal way.”

“What’s the normal way?” she asks, taking another bite.

He snorts. “Begging and pleading?”

She smiles smugly. “Maybe I’ll still make you,” and fuck she did _not_ mean the words to elicit what she’s now thinking about, the chocolate is fucking distracting her mental denial that she loves (needs) so very much.

Justin freezes for a half second, and she thinks no one would have noticed except her. And then he’s rising off the bed, his expression back to the amused tolerance that’s his normal expression for her unless he’s mad at her.

“You need to get out of here, Alex,” he says. “I’m not taking the fall for you if Mom and Dad have noticed you’re gone.”

“Oh, whatever,” she says, twisting around on the bed to pull her cell phone out of her back pocket one-handed and she did _not_ just see her brother flick his eyes to where she felt air on her bare stomach for just a second no she did not.

She holds it up. “See? No weird texts from Max, no panicked voicemails from Mom in Spanish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Then let’s keep it that way.”

She sighs, but he’s probably right. She likes doing whatever she wants (hell it’s pretty much her life motto), but as long as she’s a minor she walks a fucking annoying balancing act to keep her parents from locking her in her room if they get too pissed at her.

“You’re coming back tomorrow?” she asks, and takes her last bite of the cake. Justin narrows his eyes at her, and she rushes to add, “Because I don’t care,” through a mouthful of chocolate. So maybe that could have been smoother.

“I might extend it to a week-long thing– ” Then he laughs, and she doesn’t know what her expression is showing, but something surprised and pleased is crossing his.

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening,” he says. “I should go away more often if you’re gonna be like this, Alex.”

She’s still staring up at him (be like _what_ ) god where are her words _she needs her words_ clearly he knows she’s different after their vacation from hell but that doesn’t mean he _thinks_ – _no_ , she’s safe –

What she _is_ is embarrassed and blushing and he can tell and she still hasn’t said anything, and he raises his wand before she figures out how to form words again.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you missed me,” he says, and she can’t even remember what words _are_ as he leans over to kiss her forehead, and then he’s twirling his wand and she’s whizzing through whatever exists in between places in the universe until she falls back on her own bed, gasping.

She lies very still, refusing to let her fingers wander even the slightest amount, and stares up at her ceiling until her mom finally lures her downstairs with pizza. Alex can’t stop blushing and fidgeting and zoning out and pretends she has a headache when her mom asks.

She can still feel Justin’s lips on her forehead.

* * *

 Justin hugs her when he gets back, and Alex feels her entire body freeze up as he pulls her tight against his chest and is he just _fucking_ with her at this point?

But she doesn’t think he is, thinks that no matter what else changes in their lives, he’s never gonna be tricky in the way that she is. His default’s always gonna be truth, not lies, obedience over deceit.

– because he’s her _balance balance balance_ and it’s _perf–_

 _No._ Just... no.

“You sick?” he asks her after their parents have gone to their room for the night, when they’re plopped in front of the TV with Max between them. She’d been quiet all through dinner, and of course he’s noticed.

Yeah, _fuck_ yeah she’s sick.

“Nope, fuc– reaking brilliant,” she says, glancing over at Max guiltily. She doesn’t care that he’s twelve or however old he is now, he’s always gonna be her weird baby brother and she needs to protect him and why the _fuck_ can’t she feel like that about Justin.

“Ooh, fun word, Alex,” Max says, most of his attention on an on-screen explosion. “Fuh-kreaking?”

Fuck, her mom’s gonna kill her for corrupting her baby boy. Alex thinks fast. “Yeah, but only girls are supposed to say it, Max.”

He nods, like that’s totally a thing, and relieved, she can’t help her mouth taking charge again. “And Justin, ‘cause he’s such a wuss.”

“I don’t sully my vocabulary with words like that,” Justin says loftily, and she’d roll her eyes and move on except his eyes are gleaming, and holy fuck, he’s _joking._ How long has he just been fucking around when he’s said shit like that?

Maybe as long as _she_ has when she doesn’t really mean what she says to him. Maybe he’s just been waiting to see if she’ll notice –

“Dork,” she tells him, but a smile is on her lips, and he glances at her over Max’s head and returns the smile.

Max falls asleep in the middle of a sentence halfway through the next movie, his head tilted backward against the cushion, snoring.

“Should we wake him up?” Alex asks Justin, and when did she start relying on him for guidance?

– except only every single time she’s fucked up, okay, _fine_ , but this one time she actually hasn’t.

Justin glances over at their brother. “Nah, he’ll just start talking again. I want to see how this ends.”

Alex nods, and then Max slides over abruptly, half-falling on top of her without so much as missing a snore. Startled, she slides out from under him, leaving him to flop face down on the couch (oops, but he’s still snoring, so whatever, he survived), and now she doesn’t have anywhere to go except the hard armrest of the couch.

Justin chuckles. “Come on, there’s room over here.”

Alex looks over at him, and yeah there’s room on his other side but not fucking _much_ , and there’s something calm and open but still somehow _significant_ in Justin’s eyes, and he’s just waiting patiently for her response and somehow this stupid moment on the couch with their little brother snoring next to them is a moment that _matters._

So Alex swallows, her throat suddenly dry, and tries to walk over to him casually like it doesn’t matter at all, like she’d just as easily do that as go to bed, or wake Max up, or something, _anything_ , but squeezing into her brother’s side, and yeah it’s fucking _squeezing_ because the couch isn’t that big and Max has two-thirds of it, but Justin doesn’t complain or try to shift away or anything, and Alex thinks that maybe she kind of wasn’t expecting him to.

He’s warm and firm and it’s _so good_ she could just _die_ like this – no that’s fucking stupid, but in this exact moment she can’t help but think it, feel it.

She hears their parents’ bedroom door open and stiffens, and Justin sits up straighter beside her, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t push her away like they’re doing something wrong. She can vaguely hear their dad grumbling about the hall light being on, she’s guessing because he doesn’t want to waste a single elect, or whatever the singular of “electricity” is.

Then he flips the switch and now the living room’s mostly dark, and holy god it’s different in the dark. And Alex should have known that from the couple of times she’s been on movie dates, but it’s still different because she actually _really_ fucking _cares_ about –

Then Justin’s shifting, and she thinks he’s moving away, probably coming to his senses and gonna go sit on the floor or something, but no, he’s lifting his arm and wrapping it along the back of the couch behind her head. Not a single bit of his arm touches her, but it’s electric all the same, and she thinks, _okay, this is different_. She’s almost positive this isn’t just her anymore.

She waits a few minutes, to see if he’s just stretching or something, but he doesn’t move again. So carefully, _carefully_ – and she couldn’t say what the last few scenes in this movie were if somebody offered her a million dollars – she shifts, slightly, slowly to her left, and finally lays her head against the side of his chest.

He exhales shakily, slowly, and doesn’t move an inch, and Alex thinks – _knows_ – that yeah, things are really fucking different.

* * *

Max interrupts everything again, falling off the couch, staggering upright, and then half falling on top of Justin, who needs both hands to push Max off him, so it’s not even awkward for him to pull back and Alex to duck away as he deals with their surprisingly heavy little brother.

– well, only Max is being weird, waking up demanding to be given saxophone lessons on the spot is a lot of fucking weird, but it’s Max, so whatever.

By the time they’ve talked Max out of his dream-induced confusion (and insistence that Alex has classical jazz training) and persuaded him to go to bed, the movie’s almost over, and Justin gives Alex a wry look. “Finish it tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and because she can’t leave anything alone, because she has to prick and poke at everything important, always, she lifts her eyes carefully to his. “Your room?” she asks, and his eyes flicker in something like surprise, and holy fuck she was wrong after all –

But then he swallows hard, meets her eyes with the determined look she saw in the jungle, and nods.

“My room,” he agrees, and she grins, and he gives her that stupid dorky smile, and _this is it_ , she thinks. _This is everything._

* * *

She’s jittery and jumpy at school all the next day, and Harper has to call her name when she’s sitting in class staring at the clock and wondering if there’s a spell to make time speed up.

“You haven’t said anything in ten minutes,” Harper hisses to her as the teacher answers another student’s question.

Alex frowns at her, her thoughts still whirring. “We’re in class,” she replies in a normal tone, and half a dozen students turn around to stare at her. Whoops.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Harper whispers when the teacher finally stops glaring at them.

“Oh.” Alex guesses it probably hasn’t. “I’m um, mad because my parents are making Justin tutor me tonight,” she lies. “In...” She casts her mind about. “Geometry?” She thinks that’s the name of the math class she’s in this year.

“Really?” Harper asks. “Why?”

“Because I’m failing?” Alex is pretty sure, at least. It’s probably a safe bet.

This time the teacher stops and clears her throat, probably preventing Harper from asking why now of all times Alex’s parents are finally doing something about their daughter passing her classes solely by the grace of God and her teachers not wanting her in their class for another year.

Alex spins the same improbable story when her mom asks her if she wants to get ice cream after dinner, and to Justin’s credit, Alex only has to stare at him for a few seconds, her eyebrows raised, before he meets their mom’s eyes and nods. Across from him at the table, Alex relaxes.

“That’s very nice of you, Justin,” her mom says in surprise.

“It does happen occasionally,” he mutters, and he sounds a little strangled to Alex, but she’s pretty sure only she can tell.

After dinner, when they’re all watching a basketball game on TV (because that’s about the only thing they can be trusted to do as a family without anyone calling the cops on them) before their parents go to bed, Justin nudges her. “I can’t believe that excuse worked,” he mutters while their parents are arguing about something with Max.

Alex shrugs. “If you’d seen my last math test, you’d believe it.”

His expression turns concerned, and Alex is amazed at how much it affects her that however she feels, whatever, about Justin, and what maybe he might in some tiny way feel about her, he actually cares like a brother should, too.

“I can actually help you with school, too, Alex,” he says. “If you’ll take it seriously.”

“Justin,” she says under her breath while her dad yells at the TV, “I don’t wanna talk about math. Like, as a general statement, but also tonight in particular.”

Instead of getting annoyed with her, he kind of grins and nudges her shoulder. “Yeah, incredibly enough, I feel the same way.”

They go upstairs when their parents head to bed, and if their parents think it’s weird that Justin is just now going to start his little sister tutoring session when he has a strict self-imposed eleven o’clock bedtime, they don’t say anything.

Alex’s heart has been racing on and off all evening, and when they get to the top of the stairs she feels sort of like she’s falling back down them.

“Um,” she says. “I’m gonna put on pajamas, I guess.”

Justin doesn’t look at her. “Um. Okay, me too?” He says it kind of like a question, but she doesn’t bother answering, just hurries to her room and very purposely doesn’t pick the tightest pair of pajama pants and tank top she owns. Just her second tightest. She’s already pretty sure she’s going to hell; she might as well look good while she’s doing it.

She checks herself out in the mirror before she heads out, because she’s a teenage girl, that shit’s in her blood. Her hair’s on point, her pink pajama pants are cute as fuck. She’s good.

Justin’s already sitting on his bed, his laptop open in front of him, and it’s almost not awkward at all when she makes herself close the door, walk confidently across his room, and plop down beside him, her back against the headboard, as if she does this all the fucking time.

He looks over at her and smiles, and she’s impressed that he only seems a little more off than usual, but he can be so fucking awkward that if _that_ was an issue for her, she’d never have started thinking about – _well_. Whatever.

He looks at her pajama pants, and no his eyes definitely don’t linger the slightest bit on her tank top – one of the perks of not having big boobs is that the shelf bra in the top is just _fine_ , and anyway, she’s a liberated woman or whatever – but he snorts when he sees the brand on her pants.

“I never know whether to be annoyed or impressed at the crap you can get Dad to pay for,” he says, and just like that they’re normal again.

She smirks, smug. “Hopefully both,” she says, stretching out her legs and plucking at the raised Victoria’s Secret Pink logo in satisfaction.

He mutters something she doesn’t catch and twists away from her to turn off the light on his nightstand, and then the only light is from his laptop.

She refuses to read anything into that, because she’s allowed as much denial – _and hope and fear_ – as she damn well pleases.

She can’t even form a snarky comment, so she just watches as he leans forward and presses play. She watches for approximately fifteen seconds in silence, frowning as lyrics appear on the bottom of the screen in time with the opening voiceover.

“ _Just_ -in,” she complains. “Why did you turn the writing on? You know I hate to read.”

“Because _someone_ talks over the dialogue, and I don’t want to miss anything important,” he says pointedly, and okay that’s probably fair.

Still, she’s not going down without a fight. “But _reading_!” she protests. She leans forward to reach for the laptop and turn off the captions, and feels hands on her waist hauling her backwards.

She freezes when she realizes what’s happening, and she thinks Justin does too, for just a second, because normally he would just to shove her to the side now that he’s annoyingly enough bigger than her to move her around, but this time he hesitates for a split second, and then he’s pulling her, not pushing her, and then suddenly her back is against his chest and his legs are stretched out on either side of hers and she thinks he must be able to hear how fast her heart is beating.

She hears him swallow and say in a voice that she has to give him points for because he sounds almost normal, “We can watch the next movie without subtitles.” He’s tense against her, and she knows he’s waiting for her reaction. Her hands are clenching her thighs through her pajama pants, her nails digging through the fabric.

God, this has to be it, if the point of no return hasn’t happened yet she’s got to be _right there_ on the edge of it, and yeah she’s nervous as shit but she should be terrified, but how can she be if Justin’s right here with her?

So finally she lets out a long breath, relaxes against him, and lets her hands loosen in her lap. He smells good, and she’s pretty sure it isn’t cologne; just soap and him. “Next movie,” she says hoarsely, hoping she sounds at least kind of normal, and his hands on his own thighs clench like he wants to move them, but he doesn’t.

The movie’s really boring but that could be just her (and probably is, because if fucking Brad Pitt can’t hold her attention then nothing can) and she thinks, she _wonders_ – Justin did his part, right? She’s practically in his lap but he hasn’t done anything more, and she thinks, maybe, that he might be just as fucking scared as she is.

So fuck, _god_ , she hates knowing she might fuck up when there are actual consequences, when it’s something she actually cares about, but she can’t live the rest of her life not knowing.

She lets a long, slow breath, and then she twists on the bed so she’s facing him, kneeling between his legs. His eyes immediately focus on hers, bright and intense.

“Alex?” he asks, and his voice is just the slightest bit breathless.

“I just...” God, why does she have to lose her words when she needs them the most? Words are her _thing_. She can twist them to do anything she wants. But right now, all she is is focus and the moment and emotion.

Slowly, so he can pull away if he wants (he doesn’t), she rests her forearms on his shoulders, her hands dangling like she could link them together behind his neck, but she doesn’t (not yet). “You... We’re...”

He’s watching her avidly, and she’s just as intent on him, which is why she catches the soft flash of amusement as she fails yet again to speak coherently.

“I’m listening,” he says, and she opens her mouth to try for the _fourth_ goddamned time when his gaze falls on her lips. And fuck, that’s good enough, right? He’s not trying to move away from her, just looking at her and licking his lips.

“Just... fuck,” she mutters, and she presses her mouth against his before she can talk herself out of it.

For an instant he’s frozen against her (and how can he be _that_ shocked, honestly), and she’s about to pull away, mortified, but then he tugs her tighter against him and his hands are running through her hair and then framing her cheekbones, tracing her skin with feather light touches and there’s sensation everywhere and maybe it would be too much for some people, but she’s Alex fucking Russo and there’s no such thing as too much of a good thing, and something in her twists hot and heavy when she realizes that Justin _knows_ that about her.

One hand grasps her hair gently, the other wrapping around her hips and holding her tight, and his tongue is tracing hers, and how the fuck did he learn how to be this fucking good, this fucking hot?

He murmurs something against her lips, into her mouth, and it sounds more like a word than a moan, so she pulls back from his lips just long enough to say, “What?”

He leans back on the bed, pulling her with him, and whispers against her mouth as she falls into him, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And fuck, the thought of Justin swearing _for_ her, _about_ her, makes her hotter (and wetter) than she’s ever been in her entire life. And of course he calls her something proper like _beautiful_ , not sexy or hot or gorgeous, because even if this is the craziest shit that’s ever happened to her (and her life is pretty fucking crazy), he’s still the older brother she’s known all her life.

“Justin,” she whimpers, and whoever this boy is to her ( _everything_ , okay, but besides that), all the old and new pieces of him, she just knows she needs him, now and always.

“God,” he says, pulling his lips away from hers to breathe, and at the same time lifting her effortlessly by the hips (okay, so sometimes his strength is good for something), until she’s straddling his lap in her thin pajama pants and his sweatpants, and she can feel him, hard between her legs, and he tilts his hips upward while keeping his hands tight on her hips, and the low shuddering gasp that escapes from her mouth is pleasure and shock mingled together and when the _fuck_ did he get so confident.

“Justin,” she gasps again, and meets his eyes. She’s so filled with love and disbelief and the raw pleasure pulsating through her body that she almost can’t process the sensations.

Then Justin smiles up at her, and something inside her splits open, maybe the last of her hesitation, maybe the last of her fear that Justin isn’t right there in this with her.

She makes her first tentative thrust against him, and Justin throws his head back against the pillow, his mouth falling open, and yeah, this is it, this is _everything_.

He lets her set the pace, just keeps his hands on her hips for support as she twists and grinds to find the rhythm she wants. His hands tighten and his breath comes in almost soundless gasps that are a litany of her name – “...lex... al... ex...” – and she can tell he’s holding himself back from coming with sheer willpower, and who’d have guessed his superior mental discipline would come in so handy to her?

She gasps out a laugh at the thought as she slides against him at just the right angle, and then before she knows what’s happening she’s falling forward, shuddering through her orgasm as she presses her forehead against his chest, and he’s surging upward, sliding one hand through her hair and the other pressing down against her ass as he explores her mouth and thrusts up against her, hard – one, two – and then he’s groaning into her mouth, and she’s hot and sticky and _god_ she feels like she’s on top of the world.

When she can breathe again, she raises herself just enough to tilt her chin back and meet Justin’s eyes, terrified of finding panic in them (or worse, eternally worse – _regret_ ).

But Justin just gives her a tired, satisfied smile, and runs a hand through her hair again, gently this time. “Hey,” he says quietly. “You okay?” And yeah, it’s still her brother in there.

She snorts, and grins, and buries her face against the bare skin at the base of his neck, nuzzling under the collar of his t-shirt.

“Something like that,” she whispers against his skin, and he chuckles.

He slides a hand between them into his own pants, and she thrills as she feels his knuckles graze against her right _there_ , and she’s still sensitive but not too sensitive not to enjoy it, and she hears him whisper something under his breath, and then the wet stickiness is gone, and she smiles because of course he even knows a spell to vanish jizz.

He reaches over to close the laptop and sets it on the floor and then turns on his side, kind of carrying her with him. Without the light from the laptop she can barely make out his light eyes and dark hair and lashes. “Another movie tomorrow?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

It’s so natural it _hurts_ in such a good way that this is okay, _they’re_ okay, she can have her brother and still _this._ “What’s in it for me?” she asks with a smirk.

In response, he slides his hand between where she’s pressed against his chest and legs, and inside her pajama bottoms, tracing her folds through her panties, and then sliding a finger lightly down her slit.

She hisses in pleasure and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, Justin is smiling at her, the faintest bit of teasing in his eyes.

“Bet I can make it worth your while,” he says.

She’s too relaxed and happy to argue with that, especially since she’s almost positive he’s right. Instead, she snuggles up tighter against him. He’s even better than her favorite teddy bear. “I get to pick the movie?” she asks.

He interlaces a hand with hers and kind of curls around her so that they’re as connected as it’s possible to be. “You get to pick them all,” he whispers.

“Deal,” she says, and she feels his lips on her forehead, and she falls asleep with his hand pressed loosely on her wrist and his leg over her ankle like he wants to make sure she doesn’t try to leave during the night because he wants her there with him that badly, and this moment, right now, is motherfucking _perfect_.

 

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
